The Great Small Cat, and Others: Seven Tales

by May E. Southworth

Every one knows that a city boarding house is no place for pets, and in this particular one there was a law, as of the Medes and Persians, rigid and inflexible, that there should be no dogs or cats. So it was with a guilty, beating heart that she revelled in even these few stolen moments with this dear little comforter that carried her back to the days of her youth and the days when there were always cats—and cats aplenty. When she released her little visitor from her arms, he sniffed about the room, reconnoitering every nook and corner, as is the fashion of cats, and after a thorough and careful inspection of everything, settled down with a mew of approval into his favorite position of rest, all four paws under him, having evidently decided to stay. But the lady knew, and feared, and confiding to him the restrictions of the place, gently placed him on the window ledge, telling him to scamper for his life into hiding. He dashed away at breakneck speed and the lady thought he was gone forever. But to her surprise and delight, on returning to her room after business hours next day, there was Mr. Kitty sitting on the ledge outside her window, in his favorite position of "warming his toes," as if by previous arrangement. Of course he was invited in, snuggled and fed. Fortunately the lady's window was in the back of the house, in a rather secluded corner, so she could carry on these clandestine meetings without discovery.

It grew to be the regular thing, that the kitten should be there each night, sitting just outside the window like the Peri at the Gate, patiently waiting for his lady's return. In this way he laid such persistent siege to her heart that she finally had to surrender, permitting him an established place in her home and in her affections, but under certain restrictions. Although there was the impassable barrier of expressed thought between them, he could look into her eyes and wistfully divine her desire. In this way he quickly learned that it was only in the evening that he could be admitted into the brightness of her society, and even then, only with the greatest caution. After he had once grasped this mental warning he forever after honored it with the most careful consideration.

An evening came when the tall, thin-faced captain, with the winds of many a sea on his cheeks, was in port, and the indulgement of his long-established habit of calling on the lady in the boarding house. The anticipation of these regular visits had lain in the sturdy captain's heart until it had blossomed into a cheering romance and he boldly dreamed, during his lonely night vigils, of a possible fireside that might sometime be kindled and waiting to welcome him on his return from his voyages. This little "comfort beacon" he was building in his mind made his stays in this port of great consequence to him. But the heart of the lady was a port of happiness the captain had not yet been able to invade as it was not a sailor's life that the lady thought she would like to share. Some day, somehow, she hoped to return to that happy land in the country she remembered, where she would pitch her modest tent and live forever after, happier even than the proverbial fairies. But the big, courageous captain was gentle and generous in loving, and willing to wait.

On the captain's first call after reaching port this time he found the kitten duly installed as a permanent member of the evening circle, and on account of the lady's evident partiality for her favorite, he being always anxious to please her, tried to make friends with him. To the lady's surprise, the cat persistently eluded the captain's demonstrative wooing. Perhaps it was instinct that told him of a certain jealous impatience in the captain's heart that he should be there taking so much of the lady's attention; or perhaps it was because the captain offended his dignity by teasing him, in a friendly way, by pulling his tail; or perhaps it was just because he called him "pussy," which to any civilized cat must be rather galling.

Anyway, they did not seem to get along together at all nicely and on the captain's evenings the cat developed a decided and hitherto unknown kink in his temper. He would wait for and submit like a gentleman to the captain's rough stroke of greeting, but that was the limit of his politeness, and any familiarity beyond this would bring a wicked gleam to his sea-green eyes and an ominous thud of his tail.

The lady felt their mutual irritation and thinking to interest the captain in her pet and to smooth their rather stormy friendship, told him of the kitten's great fondness for water, a very unusual trait in cats, as they generally dread getting even their feet wet. She told how this cat really dissipated in water, loving to play with the straggling lengths of the garden hose and in the puddles it made, often getting himself thoroughly drenched, and sometimes even played at swimming across a shallow pool until he came to some high place where he could perch and dry his bedraggled self. Having such a bond as their mutual fondness for water, they ought by right to be the best of friends, she said.

When the time came for the captain to sail again, to the lady's great surprise, he begged her to let him have the kitten for a passenger, telling her that they needed a mascot on board ship. He assured her that her "best beloved" had just the special qualities to make a dandy sailor, and loving the water as he evidently did, would doubtless take kindly to the life.

The captain hesitatingly pondered in his heart if the time were ripe to ask for another passenger, the one in all the world whom he thought would make life's voyage sweet and complete, but he instinctively felt that the lady would not have it that way, and in wisdom asked only for the cat. Secretly she wondered why the captain had asked for the company of the cat, as they plainly were not greatly attached to each other, and selfishly she wanted to keep this dear little friendly kitten all to herself. Yet there was always the secret of his unlawful transgression on forbidden territory and the fear of discovery; and more than all, the heartbreaking fact that time, over which there was no control, would bring him the misfortune of becoming just a big, homeless, skulking city cat. These considerations, and a desire to provide a good home for her pet far away, reconciled her to the separation, although it gave her a big heart-ache to think how she would miss him.

So it was arranged that the captain should have his mascot. On the day of sailing the lady herself took him to the ship, as she wanted to be quite sure that he was carried aboard gently and safely and that he was induced to stay there with as little fright as possible. She was also glad to give the captain this little flattering attention of a last good-bye and bon voyage, which hint, if the poor captain had not been too downcast at the parting, might have made him feel that perhaps he had been a little too timid in asking for only one passenger. When at last she cautioned him, with a pitiful little break in her voice, to have patience and use only gentleness with this trusting, helpless little shipmate she was so basely betraying, it came near bringing about a climax. As the devoted captain held her small hands clasped tightly in his strong ones, a burning flood of love flushed his cheeks under their coat of tan and his snappy blue eyes blurred, as he solemnly swore, in a voice not quite under control, that he would be ever faithful to her admonition, to her, to the cat and to anything she held dear. Had there been time, in his almost overpowering emotion, the candid mariner might then and there have ventured his fate. However, the tension of the instant passed, and in the confusion of the last few moments there was not again time or opportunity for tender words, especially as the lady's whole attention seemed taken up with the cat and in solicitous anxiety as to whether he would be contented and develop a liking for skippers and a skipper's life. So in the final moment of clashing bells, splashing hawsers and the settling down of the engine to real business, the last flickering farewell was only a quick grasp of hands, which somehow seemed to carry with it a new hope, and the call of "all ashore," left the captain's heart still fluttering with only the next time to look forward to.